“Previously Wrong” takes us week by week through the unpredictable world of post-Golden Age television, the streaming age if you will. #PrevWrong aims to push the discussion for great TV while recommending series worth your watch lists. For this entry, we cook the books with Jared as he shares his binge experience from the fabulous first part of the final season of Ozark.
Once again, the following article contains major spoilers to Season 4 Part 1 of Ozark.
10 minutes are remaining of “Sanctified,” the mid-season finale of Ozark’s final season.
Javi (Alfonso Herrera) exits the Snell’s farm. He leaves behind a screaming baby and the corpses of Darlene (Lisa Emery) and Wyatt (Charlie Tahan). He doesn’t dispose of the bodies. He leaves them.
On his way to the farm we are reminded of a murder he committed at the beginning of the season: Sheriff John Nix (Robert C. Treveller). As he drives past a billboard informing the public of the sheriff’s disappearance, Javi snickers. Part of the reason the new leader of the Navarro Cartel is so tickled is that he is a psychopath who takes pleasure in the memory of his handiwork, but there’s another emotion at play here. Javi isn’t just admiring a job well done, he’s acknowledging his relief.
Javi was in a different position when he murdered Sherrif Nix. His power only reached within his circle of control. If the FBI figured out he murdered a law enforcement officer on American soil, he and the entire Navarro Cartel would have been wiped off the face of the planet. He's not only the leader of his uncle’s empire; he has done something much more effective than evading the FBI: he’s become their ally. With the full backing of the U.S government, Javi can now murder with impunity. He no longer has to hide his bodies.
In his eyes he might as well be sanctified.
Ozark has always played in the shadows of giants and has never been ashamed to do so. When the series began, its clearest reference points were in Breaking Bad and The Americans—displaying the crash collision of crime and family and how a family wages war with itself respectively—but leaving it at those two would lack the proper due diligence. Almost two decades of anti-hero centric dramas preceded Ozark. It can be hard to do something new with such an exhaustive canon.
When the show began, creator Bill Dubuque and Mark Williams made it clear how well they knew their material. In fact, they used it to their advantage. In Ozark’s first season, the writer’s use 20 years of viewer expectations to subvert them at every turn. Think Marty (Jason Bateman) dragged Wendy (Laura Linney) into a life of money laundering without her knowledge? She's actually been complicit from the start. Think they're going to spend the first two seasons hiding their illicit behaviour from their children? The kids know by the end of episode 2. Every time the Byrdes should go left, the writers zag right. It was a neat trick, using the viewers preconceived notions to keep them on their toes, but a bit gimmicky in retrospect. It made Ozark feel less like prestige TV and more like pastiche TV. The writers would need more than self-awareness to stand out in the pantheon they had endeared themselves to.
As each season passed, Ozark moved further away from its deceptive tricks and became a commentary on how the powerful deceive the public. With the first part of Season 4 now available to stream on Netflix, Ozark has now solidified its place in the television canon. Half-baked Breaking Bad comparisons will no longer fly.
What makes Ozark different from its anti-hero centric predecessors is the tension and the themes to which it pertains. Where the tension from most anti-hero dramas comes from the fear of being caught—Breaking Bad, The Americans, Dexter, The Shield, even The Sopranos and Mad Men to a certain extent—the conflict in Ozark does not come from keeping the spotlight off of the Byrdes. Cloak and dagger are a part of Wendy and Marty's toolbox, but getting caught is not the primary fear. Crime, politics, and the law aren't just aware of each other's existence in Ozark, they rely on each other. The tension comes from Marty and Wendy navigating these relationships without getting themselves and their family killed.
In order to navigate these relationships, the illusion of morality and justice must be tossed to the wayside. This is Ozark’s thesis. Structures are illusory and people like the Byrdes and Javi play under different rules because of their ability to navigate power. The power of Season 4 comes from watching characters who are unable to sacrifice their morals come up against the walls of this reality.
Now rewind "Sanctified," 37 minutes remain.
Agent Maya Miller (Jessica Frances Dukes) has gone rogue, publicly arresting Omar Navarro (Felix Solis) before he can return to Mexico. She is unable to stomach that the FBI has allowed the Navarro Cartel to continue its activity for 5 years in exchange for Omar's cooperation. Acting against her superiors, she arrests him. Letting him return would expose the FBI's clandestine objectives, so prison is where Omar will have to stay. What Miller does is admirable. It's brave.
It's also going to make things so much worse.
Millions of dollars in seizures are on the line. Needing a new course of action, the FBI makes a deal with Javi. Omar Navarro is an objectively horrible man, but Javi is worse. Now he is the leader of a state sponsored drug cartel for the next ten years.
What Miller did was a revolutionary act. As history has taught us, revolution is a risky proposition. If the overarching power is not properly overthrown, things become remarkably worse for those underneath that power.
Now return to the final 8 minutes of "Sanctified." Ruth (Julia Garner), the closest thing Ozark has to a tragic hero, discovers the bodies of Darlene and Wyatt. Darlene's death was the only foreseeable outcome for her character. This is a woman who spent the entirety of the show refusing to cooperate with anyone who encroached upon her business. What has Ozark taught us about people who refuse to cooperate with power?
Wyatt, however, is an innocent casualty. Someone who died as a consequence of Miller's revolutionary act. He was also Ruth's closest loved one. This will not stand with her. She will not let this go.
Shotgun-toting, expletive-slinging, and shrieking like a goddamn banshee, Ruth declares to the Byrdes that the only way they could stop her from killing Javi is killing her first. In so, she has declared war with the Navarro Cartel and the FBI—a war in which she will most likely be backed by the Kansas City mob given her unexpected friendship with Frank Jr. (Joseph Sikora). In comparison, it makes what Miller did feel insubstantial… and it most definitely will not end well for anyone involved.
The first part of Ozark Season 4 has paved the way for a captivating finale, but more importantly it has solidified what the show wants to say as a complete work. Our society is based on structures oftentimes more complex and clandestine than what we see on the surface. Those who wish to wield the power of these structures must be willing to navigate and negotiate within these confines without fear of corrupting their soul.
If power is not what you seek from these structures then you are left with two options: stay the hell out of their way or try to dismantle them. Staying out of the way makes you complicit, but attempting to fight them puts everything you love at risk. It's a wretched state of affairs to be in—Ozark Season 4 Part 1 delivers the consequences of this dilemma with expert craft.
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p lang="und" dir="ltr"><a href="https://twitter.com/marshall_jared_?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@marshall_jared_</a> <a href="https://t.co/XdcRJaUAPq">https://t.co/XdcRJaUAPq</a> <a href="https://t.co/L80ABhC4OZ">pic.twitter.com/L80ABhC4OZ</a></p>— SMACK (@smack_tweets) <a href="https://twitter.com/smack_tweets/status/1485724828351045633?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">January 24, 2022</a></blockquote> <script async src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>
“Previously Wrong” takes us week by week through the unpredictable world of post-Golden Age television, the streaming age if you will. #PrevWrong aims to push the discussion for great TV while recommending series worth your watch lists. For this entry, we cook the books with Jared as he shares his binge experience from the fabulous first part of the final season of Ozark.
Once again, the following article contains major spoilers to Season 4 Part 1 of Ozark.
10 minutes are remaining of “Sanctified,” the mid-season finale of Ozark’s final season.
Javi (Alfonso Herrera) exits the Snell’s farm. He leaves behind a screaming baby and the corpses of Darlene (Lisa Emery) and Wyatt (Charlie Tahan). He doesn’t dispose of the bodies. He leaves them.
On his way to the farm we are reminded of a murder he committed at the beginning of the season: Sheriff John Nix (Robert C. Treveller). As he drives past a billboard informing the public of the sheriff’s disappearance, Javi snickers. Part of the reason the new leader of the Navarro Cartel is so tickled is that he is a psychopath who takes pleasure in the memory of his handiwork, but there’s another emotion at play here. Javi isn’t just admiring a job well done, he’s acknowledging his relief.
Javi was in a different position when he murdered Sherrif Nix. His power only reached within his circle of control. If the FBI figured out he murdered a law enforcement officer on American soil, he and the entire Navarro Cartel would have been wiped off the face of the planet. He's not only the leader of his uncle’s empire; he has done something much more effective than evading the FBI: he’s become their ally. With the full backing of the U.S government, Javi can now murder with impunity. He no longer has to hide his bodies.
In his eyes he might as well be sanctified.
Ozark has always played in the shadows of giants and has never been ashamed to do so. When the series began, its clearest reference points were in Breaking Bad and The Americans—displaying the crash collision of crime and family and how a family wages war with itself respectively—but leaving it at those two would lack the proper due diligence. Almost two decades of anti-hero centric dramas preceded Ozark. It can be hard to do something new with such an exhaustive canon.
When the show began, creator Bill Dubuque and Mark Williams made it clear how well they knew their material. In fact, they used it to their advantage. In Ozark’s first season, the writer’s use 20 years of viewer expectations to subvert them at every turn. Think Marty (Jason Bateman) dragged Wendy (Laura Linney) into a life of money laundering without her knowledge? She's actually been complicit from the start. Think they're going to spend the first two seasons hiding their illicit behaviour from their children? The kids know by the end of episode 2. Every time the Byrdes should go left, the writers zag right. It was a neat trick, using the viewers preconceived notions to keep them on their toes, but a bit gimmicky in retrospect. It made Ozark feel less like prestige TV and more like pastiche TV. The writers would need more than self-awareness to stand out in the pantheon they had endeared themselves to.
As each season passed, Ozark moved further away from its deceptive tricks and became a commentary on how the powerful deceive the public. With the first part of Season 4 now available to stream on Netflix, Ozark has now solidified its place in the television canon. Half-baked Breaking Bad comparisons will no longer fly.
What makes Ozark different from its anti-hero centric predecessors is the tension and the themes to which it pertains. Where the tension from most anti-hero dramas comes from the fear of being caught—Breaking Bad, The Americans, Dexter, The Shield, even The Sopranos and Mad Men to a certain extent—the conflict in Ozark does not come from keeping the spotlight off of the Byrdes. Cloak and dagger are a part of Wendy and Marty's toolbox, but getting caught is not the primary fear. Crime, politics, and the law aren't just aware of each other's existence in Ozark, they rely on each other. The tension comes from Marty and Wendy navigating these relationships without getting themselves and their family killed.
In order to navigate these relationships, the illusion of morality and justice must be tossed to the wayside. This is Ozark’s thesis. Structures are illusory and people like the Byrdes and Javi play under different rules because of their ability to navigate power. The power of Season 4 comes from watching characters who are unable to sacrifice their morals come up against the walls of this reality.
Now rewind "Sanctified," 37 minutes remain.
Agent Maya Miller (Jessica Frances Dukes) has gone rogue, publicly arresting Omar Navarro (Felix Solis) before he can return to Mexico. She is unable to stomach that the FBI has allowed the Navarro Cartel to continue its activity for 5 years in exchange for Omar's cooperation. Acting against her superiors, she arrests him. Letting him return would expose the FBI's clandestine objectives, so prison is where Omar will have to stay. What Miller does is admirable. It's brave.
It's also going to make things so much worse.
Millions of dollars in seizures are on the line. Needing a new course of action, the FBI makes a deal with Javi. Omar Navarro is an objectively horrible man, but Javi is worse. Now he is the leader of a state sponsored drug cartel for the next ten years.
What Miller did was a revolutionary act. As history has taught us, revolution is a risky proposition. If the overarching power is not properly overthrown, things become remarkably worse for those underneath that power.
Now return to the final 8 minutes of "Sanctified." Ruth (Julia Garner), the closest thing Ozark has to a tragic hero, discovers the bodies of Darlene and Wyatt. Darlene's death was the only foreseeable outcome for her character. This is a woman who spent the entirety of the show refusing to cooperate with anyone who encroached upon her business. What has Ozark taught us about people who refuse to cooperate with power?
Wyatt, however, is an innocent casualty. Someone who died as a consequence of Miller's revolutionary act. He was also Ruth's closest loved one. This will not stand with her. She will not let this go.
Shotgun-toting, expletive-slinging, and shrieking like a goddamn banshee, Ruth declares to the Byrdes that the only way they could stop her from killing Javi is killing her first. In so, she has declared war with the Navarro Cartel and the FBI—a war in which she will most likely be backed by the Kansas City mob given her unexpected friendship with Frank Jr. (Joseph Sikora). In comparison, it makes what Miller did feel insubstantial… and it most definitely will not end well for anyone involved.
The first part of Ozark Season 4 has paved the way for a captivating finale, but more importantly it has solidified what the show wants to say as a complete work. Our society is based on structures oftentimes more complex and clandestine than what we see on the surface. Those who wish to wield the power of these structures must be willing to navigate and negotiate within these confines without fear of corrupting their soul.
If power is not what you seek from these structures then you are left with two options: stay the hell out of their way or try to dismantle them. Staying out of the way makes you complicit, but attempting to fight them puts everything you love at risk. It's a wretched state of affairs to be in—Ozark Season 4 Part 1 delivers the consequences of this dilemma with expert craft.
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p lang="und" dir="ltr"><a href="https://twitter.com/marshall_jared_?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@marshall_jared_</a> <a href="https://t.co/XdcRJaUAPq">https://t.co/XdcRJaUAPq</a> <a href="https://t.co/L80ABhC4OZ">pic.twitter.com/L80ABhC4OZ</a></p>— SMACK (@smack_tweets) <a href="https://twitter.com/smack_tweets/status/1485724828351045633?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">January 24, 2022</a></blockquote> <script async src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>
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